Forever Now
by Ember Nickel
Summary: Decades after the triumphs of Endor, old friends reunite on one last mission to bring freedom to the galaxy. [Post-OT AU, May the 4th 2018 treat for liz mo.]


After decades of loyal work in fields from translation to diplomacy, subterfuge to sabotage, C-3PO's circuits were winding down. Organics were no stranger to aging, of course, yet the tireless droid's decline took even his closest friends off-guard.

"I do not have the ability to monitor my own low-level functioning," Threepio explained, "any more than you can track the level of blood in your veins."

"The Force doesn't let you do that?" Han Solo asked, and Luke could only smile.

"Yet," Threepio went on, "what epiphenomena I have observed lead me to conclude that my advanced functionality is likely to cease in a relatively short term."

"Don't talk that way," said Leia.

"I'm sorry. Would you prefer I use shorter words? Many humans seem to prefer this."

"I mean—don't be so fatalistic, that's all."

"Of course I will endeavor to keep running for as long as my programming remains operational! But I thought I should remind you how...grateful I am to have such thoughtful masters. Your respect for my encoded memories and individualized personality is commendable."

"You may be a nervous wreck," Han pointed out, "but you're our nervous wreck. We wouldn't have it any other way."

"I wouldn't wipe a human's mind," said Luke, and then flexed his mechanical fingers. "Or a cyborg's. I'd never treat a droid like that, either."

"It is appreciated," Threepio acknowledged.

"Sometimes you have to admit it might be easier," Han pointed out. "Not for Threepio, of course. But some of these mechs that get it in their—uh, wires that they have to do all the ship inspections in the same way each time, because they've figured out the best one? It'd be less of a hassle to reset them and let them do whatever."

"Quite a loss of accumulated information, though," Leia said.

Luke grew quiet, and Leia felt his mind wander to the past. Though she had never accepted his offer to train in the Force, which had become less of a serious suggestion and more of a running joke as the years went on, every so often their connection would manifest without effort.

"What's on your mind?" she quietly asked, after he turned back to C-3PO with a reflective smile.

"Just wondering if anyone from Tatooine would have done the same," said Luke.

"If I may say so myself," Threepio said, "I do not recall Jabba the Hutt treating his droids with much respect."

Luke laughed, and his friends joined him. But then he grew pensive once more. "My aunt and uncle were both freeborn. And even they saw droids as—tools, to help mind the crops. But part of us always knew that...no sentient should be a slave. We didn't just fear the Hutts because they could destroy us; we kept away because of what they did to _people_. Treating droids right was...just the humane thing to do."

Leia looked downcast. "We've failed you, haven't we?"

"Of course not!" Luke protested. "What do you mean?"

"The Republic has done many things right. Trying to roll back the evils of the Empire. Yet even the Old Republic wasn't able to wipe out slavery in the Outer Rim, even though it was illegal in theory. I can't say we're much better."

Leia had worn many hats in the decades since the foundation of the new Republic. She had served as a fleet classifier during the demilitarization, a Senator from the rugged planet of Nethzay, a Commissioner of Justice in the Core Court, and a mother of two children who had grown into flourishing adults of their own. Eugene had been a daredevil starpilot, though he mostly stayed to well-traveled routes at mainstream paces those days, and Calla was a leader among the Children of the Equinox, one of the main groups of Force-sensitives that had split off from Luke's earliest students.

"Democracy is never easy," Han reminded her. "At least Tatooine is at peace. More than we can say for when we came blowing things up."

Again, the old friends exchanged a laugh, and the conversation turned to other things. Eugene's oldest daughter had recently returned from a term in Kashyyyk, and Leia's onetime Senatorial staffer, Adeg Adedayo, had been appointed to take a position of his own in the Core Court. Even C-3PO was chipper enough, sharing memories of some of R2-D2's less repeatable language.

Yet Luke slept uneasily that night, reaching out through the Force to his own past, and daring to hope for a new future.

* * *

A few days later, Luke paged Leia on his holomessenger. "Did you have any—unexpected visitors last night?" he asked.

"No," said Leia. "Unless you count Han arguing in his sleep about dice rolls, but I don't think that's entirely unexpected."

"I'll trust your judgment," Luke smiled.

"Why do you ask?"

Luke sighed. "Anakin dropped in on me."

The ghost of Anakin Skywalker had not been an entire stranger to his daughter's life. Not until she had children of her own had she begun conversing with him, in part afraid some aspect of him would lure the children to the Dark Side of the Force, but slowly, coming to realize he wanted to watch her succeed like he never could. She confided her political goals in him, and he freely admitted that much of it went above his ethereal head. Still, she did not share the rapport that he had with Luke—dropping in merely to argue vehemently about starship mechanics as often as dispensing wisdom learned from unity with the Force.

"Does this involve me?"

"Not really. He just said that I shouldn't be hard on myself for not having revolutionized the galaxy. He'd hoped to bring about change on Tatooine when he was young, too, but he fell short."

"He also _fell to the Dark Side and plunged the galaxy into despotism,_ " Leia pointed out, not for the first time. "By that standard you're doing very well."

"All the same. Do you think there's something I could do?"

"At your age? With your reputation? You can always sponsor a fundraiser and liberate some slaves yourself. I'm sure plenty of sentients would love to have a thermos autographed by the hero of Yavin."

Luke laughed. He respected those who sought to use their largesse to grant slaves their freedom; his uncle had always had plenty of stories about Cliegg Lars and Shmi Skywalker, and the small but loving life they'd built amid the sands. Yet it was only a bandage around a festering wound. "Don't count me out, little sister. I still have some tricks up my sleeve."

" _Little_ sister?" It was another one of their running jokes. "Did Anakin confirm that to you, too?"

"I asked years ago. He said he wasn't there. I think Obi-Wan might know, but he's not telling."

Leia harrumphed. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

"Oh," said Luke, " _that_ narrows it down."

* * *

The visit of galactic hero Luke Skywalker to the Outer Rim was marked with frustrating amounts of pomp and circumstance. Luke was escorted to abandoned temples and the bases of soaring mountains, bustling restaurants and gleaming spaceports, chilly lakes and humid forests. Queries about the local economy were waved off with vague declarations of loyalty to the distant Republic, and occasionally, offers to visit tribal leaders whose ancestors had held sway over roving bands for generations. While the genetic diversity was rich—perhaps the safety the Republic provided made it more feasible for sentients to travel amid worlds?—he was left with little concrete knowledge.

Making inquiries with Force-Sensitives proved more rewarding. Besides the Children of the Equinox, there were also the Harmonious Pupils, many of whom had adopted the old Jedi Order's non-attachment policies, as well as the Water Dancers, who strove to perfect martial forms and train in combat poses, to say nothing of even smaller denominations. While few of those held sway among the Outer Rim, plenty of practicioners were eager to spend an hour or so with their teachers' teacher, and gladly shared what they knew of the wider world in exchange.

Luke returned to Tesrofe, where Han and Leia had moved after Leia's retirement, and he had followed several years later. "On the plus side," he pointed out, "I haven't become any less celebrated in recent years."

"That's what peace does to a galaxy," said Han. "Only way to make your name known now is as a Tatooinian jazz artist, and from what I've seen of them, I think war was less painful."

"Hey," said Luke, "I grew up listening to Tatooinian jazz."

"Yes, which explains why you're such an uncultured hick by galactic standards," Han teased.

"What did you make of it?" Leia asked. "Once you got down to it?"

"As a wise spirit once said," said Luke, "I'd rather try moving a star with my mind than untangling the knot of the Senate."

"How wise was your dad, really?" Han pointed out. "If moving stars around was so easy, he could have rotated the planets some. Give real seasons on Edril and not just the tepid drizzle they had year-round."

"You think there's nothing to be done?" Leia asked. She felt the undercurrent of hope sing deep within him, despite all his deliberations and uncertainties.

"Oh, there's certainly possibilities," said Luke. "Risky, but I've managed stranger."

" _We've_ managed stranger," Han corrected him.

"True. Perhaps the risk is higher without the _Falcon_ around to back me up."

Leia and Han exchanged a glance. "You don't seriously think we'd let you run off and do this singlehandedly?" Han snorted.

"It's _my_ home," said Luke.

"It's my root-world too," Leia said. "One of them, anyway."

Luke regarded her with admiration and concern. She tended not to enjoy discussing her relationship to Anakin in such stark terms; was this age that had mellowed her, or fear for Luke himself?

"Well, you might as well tell us more," said Han. "If nothing else, so I can talk some sense into you and we can all stay together—right here on Tesrofe."

Luke nodded. "First off, the major port for interplanetary trafficking of sentients is the Cloval Asteroid Field, near the Dantooine sector."

"Trafficking?" Leia echoed. "What you described of Tatooine seems—terrible, but small-time on the galactic scale. Who finds it worthwhile to ship slaves from one side of the rim to another?"

"Hyperspace pirates, for one," said Luke, "and anyone who's afraid of people who know their planet well. Taking advantage of the terrain, finding places to hide and fight back? It's easier to crush people's spirits by shipping them off somewhere with an unfamiliar climate. Expensive, yes, but apparently still happens in the larger operations."

"So that needs to be shut down," said Han. "Call in the Republic's ships, arrange for a blockade?"

"If it was that easy, we'd have done it already," Leia said. "But jamming the hyperspace jump ports..."

"That seems like the best lead," said Luke. "They still use Old-Rep docking rings. Those shouldn't be _too_ hard to disable—hopefully without frying incoming traffic."

"Shut that down, and hopefully we restrict people to their own planets," Leia nodded.

"Once slaves are back on familiar territory," said Luke, "they have better odds of rising up. In order to secure a stable future, it seems that as much as possible, liberation needs to come from below—not imposed by a third party."

"Great," said Han. "I'm sure no one's ever thought of that before."

"Well, they'll need weapons, obviously. Simple blasters seem easiest—rechargeable, potentially non-lethal, portable. Distribute those in a few key ports, and let local leaders plan when to strike."

"Now you're sounding like me. A good blaster isn't _all_ you need. Though I'll admit it doesn't hurt."

"There's no shortage of potential resources once it's underway. Money, supplies—most of the Rim sentients know what's just. As long as they're not on the front lines, they'll see where the wind's blowing."

"I know the Larses were good people," Leia said gently. "But you can't sum up a whole sector, any more than you can a single species."

"I know," said Luke. "If I was _sure_ how to succeed, I wouldn't be wasting my time here, would I? The future is always in motion."

"Who said that?" Han asked.

"You think I can't come up with my own apothegms?" Luke teased. "What's the point of being a mystic teacher if I can't take credit for other people's witticisms?"

"The legions of fawning admirers?"

Luke grimaced. "It was Yoda, for the record."

Leia rolled her eyes. "Requisitioning blasters shouldn't be too hard, depending on how above-board we want to be."

"Isn't Kanata's protege a Water Dancer?" asked Han. "She'd be able to point us to contraband."

Luke nodded. "Then there's just the matter of disrupting the exolocators."

"The what?" Han asked. "Is this why the _Falcon_ always gets off-kilter in atmosphere?"

"You're going to have to ask your grandson about that one," said Luke. "No, I mean the computers that track the locations of slave implants. They need to be taken offline before people can move and associate—okay, scheme—freely."

"Will uploading a virus be enough?" Leia asked. "Because my mail filter almost lets some nasty ones through."

"That's not a bad start," said Luke, "but I'm thinking they need a more—permanent—deactivation."

"That sounds almost reasonable," said Han. "Where's the Force? The superweapon destruction? The spaceship chases?"

"Don't get too comfortable," said Luke. "It's always easier in holo-projection."

"Well, don't leave without us," said Leia. "We'll talk it over."

Luke gave an obliging assent. But all the same, he was peering off toward the horizon.

* * *

When the standard-issue fighters showed up at Luke's doorstep, he was momentarily surprised. Of course, he had expected Han and Leia to drop by—but no _Falcon_?

"It's been across the galaxy in the last few weeks," Leia explained. "Chewie got fur all over, Eugene wanted to give it a test drive, and who knows what Calla did to the engine. The way Han drives, it needs a rest."

Luke did not miss the implications. "You've seen everyone you need to? Just in case?"

"It's not goodbye," Han said, "not forever, is it?"

"Look at you, the believer."

"Some of the Force stuff still gives me the heebie-jeebies," he admitted. "But trusting Leia will someday be able to give Eugene a talking-to when he's at risk of exceeding the galactic speed limits gives me hope, yeah."

"Oh," said Leia, "like you ever listen to me when I tell you."

"It's different! You're not...glowing." He blanched at her stare. "Except with the radiance of your timeless beauty, dear."

"We'll become one with the Force sooner or later," Leia said. "That's the way of life. I suppose Han thinks the Falcon is too valuable to waste on a moonshot like this, though."

"Obi-Wan wasn't particularly clear on that point," said Luke. "Priorities, and all."

"All right, kids," said Han. "You know what to do."

Leia pulled Luke into their embrace, and for a moment, the decades rolled away; they were again alight with the rush of victory, or caught up by juvenile emotion.

Then they stepped back, and the nearly-silent engines were awaiting them, the mission yet at hand beckoning them onward. They boarded their respective ships, finding them built for younger, lither bodies, the interior style sleek and surreal compared with the cobbled-together relics they'd once flown in.

But the thrill of leaving atmosphere, autopilot lifting them skyward with flames in their wake, never changed.

"This is Luke," Luke called, "come in, confirm your radio's on." Even after all the years, it was still a relief to hear his friends' voice, reassure himself they were never far.

"Yes, this is obviously Leia," said Leia. "Do we get call signs? I want call signs."

"What do you want with a call sign?" Han snorted. "You've never flown a combat mission."

"Excuse me," Leia said, "as a member of the royal family, I had a codename when you were still in juvie on Corellia."

Luke sensed she was speaking of Alderaan with wistfulness more than bitterness, as had been happening more and more often, and gave in to curiosity. "What was your codename?"

"Iris," she said. "They grew on the mountains."

"Huh," said Han. "Better than _Violet Three_ , I guess."

The hyperdrives launched in parallel, and the ships took off into the bright expanse of hyperspace.

* * *

Han could only wonder what his younger self would have made of a mysterious ship emerging from hyperspace to a crowded bazaar in the Outer Rim. Would he seem an oldster past his prime? Desperately in debt, willing to do anything to get his creditors off his back? Or, worse, some charlatan like Obi-Wan Kenobi had seemed at first, placing his trust in unseen powers?

Behind the opaque ship walls, however, he was obscured from prying eyes for better and worse. No one saw the aged scoundrel, but then, no one saw the legendary Han Solo, content with a modern but unimpressive ship.

"All systems go," he radioed. "Gotta say, it ain't that impressive for an asteroid field."

"Not everyone has your particular...gifts...for navigation," said Leia. Teasing and nostalgia alike mixed in her voice, behind the mechanical distortion that came from communicating with a ship across hyperspace.

"You're clear," came Luke's warbling voice, equally muffled. "May the Force be with you."

Han began a slow loop around the field. Blinking lights beckoned him to larger, more stable rocks. On any public channel of the radio spectrum, he knew, he'd be drowned in a barrage of advertisements. He steered towards a relatively clearer area, where only tiny pieces of debris lay in wait for any ship unfortunate enough to approach at unchecked velocity. There, the old-fashioned docking rings opened to hyperspace, allowing unscrupulous dealers to cross the galaxy in one hop.

Merely detonating them one by one would raise undesired attention, even by his standards. Instead, Han aimed to tag the rings with explosives that he could detonate from aboard the ship, with a failsafe in place to automatically fire if he became incapacitated.

The first few were easy enough to target; he just needed to drift by as if waiting for outbound traffic to clear. As he continued, however, he saw other small fighters draw near, too small to be smuggling vessels. An incoming comm sounded.

"Hello," he said. "Don't suppose any of you know the quickest shortcut to Geonosis?"

"The Geonosis sector may be reached through docking ring Epsilon-2. May we provide you an escort?"

"Uh, no," Han said, swerving as if he were struggling to get his bearings. "Epsilon, uh, 3. 2! Got it."

As he circled back around, he got off another shot, tagging one of the big rings. "Please deactivate your weapons," came another nasal commchat. "While defenses are allowed and encouraged, excessive displays of force are bad for business."

"Right, right," said Han. "Droid co-pilot, you know how they are." He sped forward, nearly grazing the top of another loop before unleashing an explosive.

"Please proceed to Epsilon-2." As if to illustrate the point, red lights began flashing on one of the distant rings.

He slowly approached, then stalled. "Sorry," he said, "engine troubles. Give my droid a few minutes to deal with it."

Another voice came crackling over the commlink. "Republic craft M5-7U identified."

"Yeah," said Han, "didn't come by it easy, what's it to you?"

"Spacecraft with preinstalled hyperdrives are prohibited from taking advantage of the Cloval Docking Rings. Please immediately vacate the area. I repeat, please _immediately_ vacate the area."

For a split-second Han was tempted to zoom forward and soar through the ring before they could respond, but instantaneously thought better. Since his ship was not able to communicate with the detonators through a hyperspace gap, he would need to be in real space to trigger them.

So instead, he adjusted his angle only slightly, and soared onward as he hit the detonator. The rings behind him erupted into flame, and he zoomed towards Epsilon-2, impacting the ring on the outside, and sending it, too, into chaos.

It was fitting, he thought, as the ship crumpled around him. He'd once fought to keep the galaxy holding together, but at last he was living up to the true smuggler's calling: keeping the planets spinning apart.

* * *

"Take this," Leia repeated. "Use it when the time is right. If there is anyone close by who you can trust, send for them. I have more, but you need to hurry."

The short, feathery creature regarded her with small eyes. "Is this a trap? I could get killed for hiding this."

"If I wanted to kill you, I could have done so already," she said impatiently. She came bringing aid, and they still saw her as a threat? No matter their rank, it was sentients' nature to be paranoid, she supposed.

The creature—Altaives, they called themselves—gave what passed for a scowl beneath its elongated beak. "You stay. I will come back." She turned and sprinted away on sharp claws.

Leia hurriedly unloaded another crate from her ship, keeping it closed. She wished the Altaive had given her more of a sense of scale. Was she arming a dozen more? A hundred? Yet it beat the planets where she had been turned away. And for all the setbacks, she had still managed to disperse the vast majority of her arsenal. That had to count for something.

The Altaive's tracks receded into the soil, and suddenly, Leia felt a pang sear through her from across the galaxy.

 _Han_.

She felt his fear, his pain, his pride and love for her. How could his absence strike to the core, when in all the days and years they had spent together there had been nothing mystical or mysterious about him? Only his solid, living, human self, so intrinsic to her life she had taken it for granted. Was that all she felt, just a rupture from normalcy?

No. Her life had changed in many ways over the years, upheavals for good and bad alike. That grief was more; she was conscious of him ceasing to dwell in the universe.

The force—the _Force_ , she told herself—of the blow was overwhelming. She wondered, too, how she and Darth Vader had never sensed each other. How could a power cause so much pain within her, and yet lie buried?

 _Because I knew Han,_ she answered, _inside and out, body and soul._ It did not silence her wonder and helplessness at the turmoil within, but it settled her, let her return to the task at hand.

The Altaive she had spoken with returned, and behind her, a horde of smaller ones. Many of them had bright, nearly iridescent feathers that sparkled beneath the red sun.

"The young ones," explained the first Altaive. "Troublemakers. They say they would rather die than live another day as slaves. Suppose you might as well give them the chance."

Leia smiled. "I know you've waited all your lives for freedom, even if that seems a short time to us old fools. If you can wait a little longer, you may find a chance close at hand. In the meantime, take this as a sign of good faith." She began distributing the blasters, and the Altaives quickly passed them claw to claw.

One in the back approached her, looking her over critically. "I feel like I've seen you before."

"Don't be a fool," another laughed. "What would a human want on a place like this?"

Leia braced herself, but the Altaive turned to his comrade. "You've seen the holovids, haven't you? Fool of a human thinks she can survive on low-grav worlds, almost kills herself with oxygen deprivation. Some ambassador, barely standing upright!"

Leia was unable to suppress a laugh. "You—you don't mean Envoy Holdo?"

"That's it," said the young Altaive. "You're not her?"

"Afraid not," Leia said. "I've seen the holovids too. She certainly does have a...taste for extreme environments." At least she could comfort herself with the knowledge she wasn't the most foolhardy human in the galaxy, even at her age.

The Altaive huffed. "Well, so much the better."

"May the Force be with you," Leia offered. Was that an appropriate benediction, that far from the core?

But the Altaives seemed to take to it, hopping away with their blasters stowed out of sight.

Leia headed back towards her ship, but found that it would not start. Frustrated, she began running simple diagnostics, and the act of maintainance made her think of Han. Her heart welled up with grief once again, but her face remained steady. He was not gone, merely one with the Force he had dismissed and admired by turns.

The computer flashed an error message when she scanned for the lift deflector. Annoyed, she clambered outside and started a manual inspection, only to find that the deflector seemed to have been burned away, with only a crude edge remaining.

"In need of assistance?" cawed a large avian from overhead. They were called Theriks, the slaveowners of the planet. Only a few evolutionary links separated them from their flightless cousins, yet they acted as if their mastery of the air gave them mastery over other sentients.

"I think I've just about got it, thanks," Leia called.

The Therik gave a sneer that resembled laughter. "Cheee-aw! You are not just an old human, you are a fool, too! How do you fly without wings?"

Well, at least she wouldn't have to worry about being taken for Leia Organa. "The hyperdrive is fine, I'll boot it up in a minute." Not that she expected to be able to accelerate to hyperspace from a stopped position, but would the Therik know that?

"Yes, very good. Go on, get moving!"

She hurried back inside and finagled the console some more. As expected, the hyperdrive did not engage, and she stepped out once again. "I'm afraid I can't get it to work. Perhaps you could point me to the nearest port?"

"You land here without coming from the port?" taunted another Therik, fluttering and landing on a withered tree nearby. "Only traders and murderers try to land here."

"Has there been violence around these parts?" Leia asked, taken aback.

"Not here, thankfully," said the first. "But every so often in the hot summers, you'll hear some groundwalker go crazy like they're Tatooine sandbrats killing a Hutt."

"Bad for business," tutted the second.

Leia repressed a smile—so some part of her legend still held sway in the Outer Rim. "I have some commbands to trade. They're very portable, you can even wear them on your talons. Hold on."

Returning to the ship, she quickly dug out the miniature commlinks. A silly safety regulation, she'd thought, one of the younger and more idealistic senators' innovations, but she wouldn't complain if it worked.

"My friend has gone to find payment," called the first Therik, when she emerged. "Some of the old women are too lazy to work much."

"I'll—" Leia checked herself. It wasn't what she'd come there for, but perhaps she could help a few slaves escape along the way? "Take your time."

"What are those?" another Therik yelled. "Spy traps?"

"Not at all," Leia said, "they're just—for making calls. I can show you."

"Cheee-aw, calling your human friends to show them our secrets? Not right, not right."

"Who would you rather I call?"

"We told you, groundwalker, we don't like offworlders coming along and sticking their beaks into our business. We live by our laws, you keep yours."

"And the Altaives?" Leia burst. "Do you let them follow their own ways?"

"Enough!" the third Therik shouted. "You come to destroy our livelihood. No more!"

"Wait," said the first. "Listen to her, I want to see those rings—"

But the Therik paid no heed, signalling to a cluster of others perched on a nearby house. They took flight in formation, bearing something between their talons. Leia glanced up—was that the lift deflector, scorch marks on its side?

The fearful Therik gave another sign, and while the first one cried out, the fliers dropped the component. Too late, Leia tried to dodge it, but it still caught her on the head and she collapsed to the ground, staring up at the glittering sky.

* * *

Once Han had teased Luke that dying on Tatooine would be a convenience, punctuating a brief sojourn of the galaxy by returning to his home for good. But Luke knew better; he had travelled many worlds in the years since, and left echoes of his teaching on dozens more. Wherever he died, he would still commingle with the Force, and reunite with the Jedi who had been born or hid away on the dry world.

All the same, he was in no hurry.

The new exolocator in Mos Espa was, somewhat to his frustration, smaller and more advanced than most of the ones he'd already taken down. Worse, it was under guard, not from an automated system or a distant satellite, but rather, a dour slave himself.

"Peace, friend!" Luke said. "I mean you no harm, I'm sure you go about your job well. I just want to inspect the device, that's all. Will you let me pass?"

"What does a freeborn want with an exolocator?" the slave snapped.

Luke paused. He had been born into a darkness encompassing the galaxy, yes, and had come to believe he had not been born on Tatooine. Yet his aunt and uncle's accent still rang on his lips, and he and Leia both had been born free. He hoped that was some small consolation to Anakin.

"Maintainance," he said.

"And you're still at work, at your age?" The man gave a derisive laugh, as if suggesting there was not much difference between Luke and himself.

Luke gave a conspiratorial smile. "Some rich beings do get protective of these machines. They're afraid of what would happen if they broke down."

The man looked him over, uncertain.

"Go along. If anyone asks, I'll tell them you needed a drink. In fact, can I get you a drink? If you give me a moment..."

"No need," he said, finally cracking a smile. "The fanatics at Othan's always have plenty to drink. Takes the sting off."

"Fanatics?" Luke echoed. "Religious ones?"

The man glared at him as if unsure whether such a fool could really hail from Tatooine. "Sports. Streaming the podracing from Utapau."

"Sounds dangerous."

"You take your fun where you can have it." He glanced at the machine, then scurried to the door. "Be quick about it, now."

"Of course," said Luke. Maybe not too quick, he corrected himself? He did not want the man to get blamed for his sabotage.

Once he had access, it was not difficult to figure out where to lash out with a blaster, destroying critical functionality while making it obscure from the outside that anyone had been there. Satisfied, he walked towards the exit, only to find an unpleasant-looking being confront him. "Who are you? What are you doing here?"

Luke sighed. "You don't want to examine the exolocator."

"I...don't want to examine the exolocator?" she echoed, almost questioning.

"You want to leave me alone and reconsider your economic system."

"I want to...leave you alone...and reconsider my economic system," she trailed off, wandering back out the door.

Minds didn't get much weaker than that sort of blind loyalty, he figured, though he had little confidence that her capacity for reexamination would get her far. Still, it served his purposes.

As he walked back towards his ship, he froze. Leia's presence in the Force—a beacon of strength, edged with love and determination—surged and fell away. If Han's loss, which had gripped him on the exit from hyperspace, was a crushing blow, Leia's was a disintegration. He had lost half of himself, even if it was a half that had been eclipsed for his formative years.

Yet he had once before endured an agonizing severance, and he needed no ghost to tell him that Leia was unfolding the mysteries of the Force, partaking in reunions long-awaited and bittersweet by turns. She was still a breath away, an unseen voice.

Luke was roused from his mental anguish by a large droid accosting him. "Attention! Surveillance cameras indicate that you have been interfering with a restricted area."

Force tricks wouldn't get him out of that one. "I mean you no harm, but you really ought to let me pass."

"I do not take orders from humans," it snapped. "Explain your interference, or suffer the consequences."

"I simply wish for a freer galaxy," said Luke. "Is that not a goal we Tatooinians can support?"

The droid stared at him, perplexed, then fired a blaster.

For a moment Luke's chest burned with pain, and then the droid was peering down at him. "But you are a cyborg!" it marveled. "You should have said something..."

Luke glanced at his artificial arm, before the rest of his body faded around it.

For a moment there was silence. Then his spirit reached out, flowing into the Force that knit together the galaxy, and transcended space and time. He sensed the mosses of Dagobah and the trees of Endor, the falcons of Nethzay and the nightlynx of Tesrofe. They lived and died, struggled and endured, bound in the universal embrace.

He felt the darkness that beckoned to beings at every turn, Force-sensitive or not, the cost and danger of their freedom. The challenges and opportunities that still faced the Republic. But around that, within it, ever-present, he felt the light and hope that blazed in their hearts. The liberation that yet could be, that his life and death had made a more present reality. Beings of every stripe and hue waiting to reclaim their freedom. His students, forging new discoveries with the Force, walking different paths but still held in the light.

And then he opened himself to the minds of those close at hand. Han's vivacity, Leia's fierceness, his optimism, all radiated together once more, and they hugged as if it was Yavin 4 all over again, their victory secure.

"Come on," Leia finally said, once the exuberance had subsided. "Let's go meet our family."


End file.
